Son of Redemption
by SphinxScribe
Summary: After the Emperor dies, Luke rushes himself and Vader to the nearest medical frigate. Vader survives, but that doesn't mean this isn't goodbye. One-shot. ROTJ AU.


_A/N: Hi, I'm back! This is fresh off the press (and my first fanfic in… wow, 4 years?), so please excuse errors. _

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_Son of Redemption_

It's a blessed relief that the controls in the Imperial Shuttle aren't much different than an Alliance ship's, because the chain explosions that rock their docking bay aren't merciful. By the time that it takes Luke to override the system, power the shuttle, and speed them full throttle ahead, heavy durasteel beams have begun to cave around them, and Luke can feel the heat as their viewport burns orange with flames.

The shuttle barely makes it out of the Death Star's range before the space station explodes, sending a force of fire and energy so powerful that the shuttle trembles violently under the blast.

When they're at a safe distance, Luke releases the breath he hadn't realized was trapped in his chest. A few alarms blare in the cockpit—_overheating_, _shields compromised_—but it's nothing compared to what could have been.

All around their shuttle, tiny particles from the Death Star swirl around the shuttle like millions of tiny glittering beings. X-wings and TIE fighters tumble around them, and in the distance lurk the remaining Alliance and Imperial command ships, shocked into silence by the space station's blast. When Luke reaches into the Force, he can feel distant life on the Endor moon, where he somehow knows that Han and Leia are both okay.

In the shuttle cabin, his father's life force has grown alarmingly dim, even in the few minutes since they made it to the docking bay. A brief sweep across his father's fading consciousness tells Luke that Vader needs medical attention as soon as possible, and so Luke sets course for the nearest medical frigate and abandons the cockpit to return to his father.

Vader is slumped against the ship's hull, where Luke left him when they first boarded. The usual _suck-hiss_ of his mask is gone, replaced by a terrible rasping noise. Luke cannot tell if it's machine or his father's gasps from inside the suit.

He grasps the armoured shoulder, and gently reaches out to touch his father's mind. He barely feels any flicker of recognition in return. Vader no longer seems aware of the pain that has seized his body.

"Father," Luke says. "Can you hear me?"

He doesn't really expect a response, and he doesn't get one. Vader's life force flutters like a small bird, struggling, gasping, nothing like the usual dark thundercloud Luke has come to recognize. Vader is slowly suffocating without the support of his suit, and it's clear that he won't last much longer.

His own heart hammering in his chest, Luke rises and rummages through the equipment on the shuttle—something, anything that could keep his father breathing until they reach a facility.

There's not much, but he finally locates a spare oxygen mask, which he brings back to his father's side. He slides his father to lay flat on the shuttle floor, and sends his father a wordless apology as he reaches for the release on his father's helmet.

The helmet releases with a _hiss_.

Vader's face is pale—paler than Luke would have thought possible—and covered with terrible, warped scars that stretch over his head and cheek. Luke feels a lurch of nausea when he thinks about what could have marred a face like this, but he keeps his hands steady as he fits the oxygen mask over his father's nose and mouth and presses the release to allow oxygen flow.

The breath mask fogs a bit, but Vader's breaths remain shallow and slow.

Luke brushes against his father's mind, hoping his father can sense him nearby and take strength. "We're on our way to get help, Father," he murmurs. "If you can hear me, hold on."

The next half hour until they dock is torturous. Luke feels his father growing weaker, each breath more laborious, and by the time they've docked, Vader's stopped breathing altogether.

Medical droids find Luke kneeling beside the black behemoth, his hand pressed to Vader's neck, where a pulse is erratic and weak. Struggling to remain calm, Luke says, "He's not breathing. Quickly, please—"

If they recognize the Emperor's second in command, they do not comment. They hurriedly mount Vader on a floating stretcher and rush him into the medical frigate, where they're joined by a pair of medics. Luke follows at a run, his heart beating high in his throat.

Vader is lifted onto a medical bed, where they replace the shuttle's oxygen mask with one of their own and implant an IV needle in his upper arm, since they find his limbs to be prosthetic.

The medics look overwhelmed as they read scans of Vader's body.

"We can't operate on him," one of them, a Rodian, stutters to Luke. "These aren't even flesh organs—his body is embedded with metal—" He motions to the scans, and his human partner stares at the charts wide-eyed. "He needs a—a _mechanic_, not a doctor. We don't have the technology for this—"

"Please," Luke says. He's been clinging to his father's slipping life in the Force ever since they'd arrived, but he knows he can't hold on for much longer. "You have to try. Please."

So the droids cut open Vader's suit, searing through armour and bodysuit, revealing more pale, scarred skin. There are wires and tubes everywhere, burrowed in Vader's chest, in his stomach and spine. Luke feels a bit sick looking at it all, but has no time to process these medical horrors. The moment the suit has been removed, the Rodian medic shoves Luke from the room and the operation begins.

In the hallway outside, Luke slides down the wall and rests his head against the cool tiles. He feels shaky. He knows he should comm Leia to let her know he's okay, but he's emotionally and physically exhausted, and only now that he's still does he realize how painful his own injuries are. He will need bacta treatment—his bones and muscles feel as though they've been stripped by the Emperor's lightening—but he doubts that there are any medics to spare at the moment.

In the next room, his father's weak life force flutters—he's teetering between life and death. Luke takes some deep breaths and begins to meditate.

He's not sure how long he sits there, but he's disturbed some time later by a swelling of terror in the Force. Then, the door to the operating room slides open with a _hiss_ and the Rodian medic comes out, looking panicked. He doesn't manage to say anything, but he doesn't have to—Luke can feel the terror coming from his father. He's awake.

Inside, the machines that line Vader's body are shaking violently. A vial holding green fluid bursts, shattering glass and spraying liquid everywhere.

Vader's eyes are open, panicked and delirious and confused by his surroundings. As the human medic rushes to sedate him, Vader mentally lashes out, and she hits the opposite wall and slides down in a heap.

Luke rushes towards him and grasps his father's shoulders.

"Father! Father! It's okay!"

Vader struggles for a few more moments in confusion, but then his eyes find Luke's and they widen in recognition.

"It's okay," Luke tells him, sending calm through their bond. "It's okay. You're safe."

Vader's panicked gaze clings to him like a lifeline, nearly painful in its intensity, but as Luke's soothing reaches him in the Force, he begins to calm. The machines around them settle, and the human medic seizes the opportunity to inject him with a sedative.

Vader doesn't seem to notice the medic's needle—his eyes remain fixed on Luke, blinking slowly at his son with sedated wonder. Vader's eyes are the same shade of blue as Luke's, and Luke clings to them just as tightly as his father clings to his.

The connection only lasts a few seconds, and then the sedative begins to take effect and Vader slips back into unconsciousness. The blue eyes slide shut.

"He's fighting the medication. Keep him calm, please," the human medic begs Luke, pushing him into a chair, and Luke does not protest. He settles beside his father and holds Vader's prosthetic hand through the rest of the surgery.

Luke doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes some time later with his head on his father's bed. The medics have long left, taking their medical droids with them, and he is alone in the room with his father.

He eases himself upright, rolling the stiffness in his shoulders and blinking exhaustion from his eyes. His entire body aches as if he'd been hit by a rancor, and his bones feel like—well, they feel like he'd been electrocuted. He doesn't feel rested—just more tired.

He glances at the holo-clock flickering in the room's corner. He couldn't have been asleep for that long, could he? Leia and Han must be worried sick...

"Luke?"

The voice is raspy and weak, barely a whisper, but Luke starts in surprise.

Vader is awake, blinking at him from the headrest that supports his neck. He looks drowsy, courtesy of the many painkillers in his IV, but his gaze is mostly steady as it rests on Luke.

"Father," Luke breathes in relief. He reaches forward to grasp his father's hand.

His father's breaths are shallow and quick, and he has to take a few before forming words. "The… Death Star? How...?"

"I got us out of there," Luke tells him, and he wonders if his father even remembers what had happened after he cast the Emperor down the Death Star shaft. Vader had been barely conscious as they stumbled from the throne room. "We're both safe."

Vader closes his eyes, his relief tangible in the Force, but after a few long moments, he frowns at Luke. "You're… hurt."

"I'm okay," Luke tells him. "Nothing as bad as you. You nearly didn't make it."

Vader shakes his head. "Luke…" he begins, but pauses. Luke feels his father's emotions swell in the Force—worry, regret, grief. "You shouldn't have... risked yourself—"

"I should have let you die?" Luke challenges, and one look at his father tells him, yes, this what his father means. "I wasn't going to leave you there."

Vader takes shallow breaths, then says, "But where am I to go now, young one?"

Pressure builds in Luke's chest as he struggles to answer. He knows his father must feel like he's more of a hindrance left alive. It's true that the Alliance won't want his help, not after all he's done, and Force knows if the Empire would want him back. One or the other might put him on trial for his crimes…

"We—we can go somewhere far away," Luke says. "Somewhere where you can recover…"

He trails off, because even he doesn't know where that would be. The truth is that he can't picture a future with them together that doesn't seem like an exile. Choosing a life with Vader seems like a goodbye to Han and Leia and the Alliance. Perhaps for good.

There's pain and regret in Vader's eyes that tells Luke that Vader knows all this. He rasps softly, "Things are not so simple, young one."

"I'll stay with you until you're well..."

"And then you must go."

Luke shakes his head, torn. "I… I can't leave you behind."

"Your place… is not with me, my son," Vader says quietly, and Luke's chest tightens.

Deep down, Luke knows his father is right. His place is with Han and Leia, fighting to restore the Republic and rebuild the Jedi Order. Redeeming his father was such a fantastical dream that he'd never considered how things might work afterwards… but the truth is that Vader's crimes sealed his destiny a long time ago. Vader's path, however briefly it has crossed with his own, is bound for a different destination. At least for the foreseeable future.

Vader watches him with a pain that echoes Luke's sadness at these realizations. "And... your sister," he adds gently. "You cannot leave her."

Leia. Of course he couldn't leave Leia. Luke closes his eyes, feeling foolish for being so simplistic. The same idealist in him who redeemed his father will not allow him to abandon his friends.

He swallows hard. He doesn't want to confront the possibility that this is goodbye forever, but it could be. "Where will you go?"

Vader is silent for a long moment, and he suddenly seems many years older. Luke can feel his weariness in the Force. "I don't know."

"Will… will I ever see you again?"

A strange, sad expression crosses over Vader's face. His eyes scan Luke, reading the hope Luke knows he shows too clearly, and Vader murmurs, "What do your feelings tell you?"

Luke searches himself, centering himself in the Force. Somewhere, deep down, his heart tells him _no_, this is not the last time they will see each other again. Luke doesn't know when or where in the galaxy they'll meet again, but this is not goodbye.

He looks up at his father, who is pale and scarred and still so weak that he cannot yet lift his head off his bed. His father can't expect him to leave now—Luke won't leave him like this.

"I'll stay with you until you're well," Luke tells him. "I won't leave just yet." He owes his father that much, and is resolved he will not sway in this, at least.

A small smile stretches the scars on Vader's face, one that tells Luke that Vader recognizes this stubbornness, and knows he cannot fight it. He doesn't reply, but Luke can feel his quiet contentment through their bond.

Luke smiles at the small victory.

He wants to stay longer, to talk to his father, but it's clear Vader is exhausted. Vader's eyes soon drift closed, and so Luke leaves to let him rest in privacy.

His own body aching, Luke claims a nearby cot and, hoping the medics won't object, lays down to rest. Sleep comes to meet him as soon as his head hits the headrest, and as his mind drifts from awareness, the last thing he feels is his father's bright presence and the warmth of the Force around them.


End file.
